Sharing Shangri-La With You

Oh how to recapture the sights and the sounds,
the fragrance and hue of The East
where palaces golden and gardens of beauty
provide such a sumptuous feast
that the eyes, overburdened, just goggle in wonder,
the brain ticks at feverish pace
and try as you might to retain all you see
as through temples and markets you race...
can you really remember, as time surely passes,
aromas whose source you don’t know?
Could you capture on canvas or even by camera
the sea of sweet memories that flow?
The dazzle of colour, of silken fine feathers,
of orchids and lanterns suffuse
until all is recalled in one gorgeous resplendence
"We dined out on colours," you muse,
"We swept through the East on our magical carpet
and breathed in such air of delight
that we banqueted daily on knowledge and beauty,
then dreamed perfumed dreams of the night.
We listened to legends of dragons and serpents
and saw timeless ballets by girls
who, attired in costumes descended from nobles,
told history’s tales in their whirls".
"How we long to return to that Garden of Eden
and by cool, fragrant waters to lie,
to stroll once again through the land of the sacred
which time has so kindly passed by".
How could you describe all the radiant glory
(although you have tried faithfully)
when something already has started to vanish?
Won't you share Shangri-La here, with me?